


cherry pie.

by cl3rks



Category: Fright Night (2011)
Genre: Alcohol, Domestic Jerry, F/M, Jerry is his own warning, Reader Likes To Bake, Reader-Insert, Sexual Content, Sexual References, Smut, Swearing, Warm Nights, because this is for the remake, cold hearts, he doesn't have a last name in the remake, i put him in there with his whole name and just his first, jerry has been around for a LONG TIME he's gonna swear, kind of, ps jerry had to restrain himself from biting you in c7 so, the fandom just kinda assumed, weird conversations
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-16
Updated: 2017-10-29
Packaged: 2018-06-08 20:45:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6872713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cl3rks/pseuds/cl3rks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jerry Dandrige is just your run-of-the-mill, regular, friendly neighborhood vampire. He thinks you know, you just like baking him things. (He notices you don't do it for anyone else, though.)</p><p>Or, alternatively, you've been making him baked goods and he really wants to taste more than just the treats you're offering.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. diet kinks.

**Author's Note:**

> This will probably be smut or sexual tension heavy, likely both. I'm sort of taking a break from certain stories I have, I have writer's block on SO MANY OF THEM. But, I rewatched Fright Night (2011) a little while ago and wrote about six things around 2 AM for Jerry and deleted them all because they were crap. Then, as it seemed to happen, I rewrote them with a less scattered mind and a few of them actually work??? Like this one, for instance. 
> 
> Updates will probably be slow, just fyi. 
> 
> First chapter is not gender-specific, I have no idea how this'll work out considering I have SERIOUS trouble writing anything other than female readers... so, fingers-crossed?

To start this off, let's just get this clear, Jerry Dandrige does not enjoy baked goods. He does not care about baked goods. He does not like the cute little sprinkles you put on cupcakes, he does not like the time it takes you to shove some goopy frosting into a sandwich bag, cut the corner off and carefully pipe the frosting onto the top of a cupcake. He doesn't care that you dust brownies with powdered sugar. He doesn't care that you do the same with lemon bars or lime bars. He doesn't give a shit about your cakes or your muffins or whatever.

Or, at least, that's how it started.

He moved into the neighborhood and you started dropping off containers (that you could rarely find the lids for) with a note on the top and a little smiley face drawn onto the container with a Sharpie. You also tended to ring the doorbell or knock, there were rare occasions when Jerry would try and catch you but hell, for a human, you tended to move really fast. 

It was usually at the crack of dawn when you left things. He was up anyway, brushing his teeth after an especially blood meal. If he happened to get the container into his hands while it was still warm, he was lucky. Sometimes he didn't even hear you knock.

He could smell you, though. 

God, you smelled wonderful to him. 

Your veins were full of sweet blood, he knew that. He could smell it whenever you would walk past. He didn't see you when you first started leaving things. He thought it was annoying – thought that _you_ were annoying.

Then you started making him things with apples. That pleased him to some extent. 

When he actually got a hold of you – or the other way around, actually – he was outside, at dusk, replacing some old brick-like white stones in front of his house. He had already done some gardening – or landscaping, whatever – and you were holding a clear container with a blue lid. 

He watched you in the warm weather, walking across your driveway to his. From the whiff of you he got, you smelled freshly cleaned but still sweet. He sighed to himself, you were never overwhelmingly sweet. However, You were on your phone, clearly not paying attention. You didn't even see him. 

But, regardless, he watched you in your black exercise shorts and gray tank top, your flip-flops doing exactly what the name states as you texted someone. He watched as you avoided the slight dip in the space between your driveways and the few dirt piles he'd made that he had yet to put back in the ground because he didn't know what to do with them. Not to mention that your foot rolled over a loose rock and you still kept going, not even tripping as you walked past him and to his door. You tucked your phone into your pocket and, without missing a beat, rang the doorbell and set down the container.

“I'm over here.” Jerry told you, standing up and brushing his hands over his jeans to remove whatever grime was on them as you whipped around to face him. 

“Oh.” You said softly, leaning down to swipe up the container. “I made you cookies.”

“You're putting a kink in my diet.” Jerry informed, watching your shoulders shrink down slightly as you looked at the container of cookies in your hands. 

You looked up and your gaze filtered over his muscles, the way his white form-fitting tank top did little to hide them as bits of sweat made the shirt cling to his body. You raised an eyebrow slightly, your eyes going over his near canon-like arms before you shifted your stance, locking one of your legs slightly as you held the container out to him with a “take this or I'm shoving it up your ass” attitude. 

“You seem to manage.” 

He glanced at the container then your face then the container once more. You were actually serious. Sure, it didn't affect his diet like he made it seem. Because how can baked goods put a major kink into apples, water, beer and oh, _blood?_

You had an attitude he liked, but one that seemed to get on his nerves a little too. 

“Where the hell do you find time to make me this shit?” Jerry asked, reaching for the container. You let him have it, watching him shake it slightly for emphasis. “Don't you have a boyfriend or girlfriend or some shit?”

“Neither. I've got a lot of time, though.” You replied. _Hm, something you both have in common._ “What about you? You're either always out here gardening or in your house, y'know, avoiding neighbors.” 

 

“I work at night.”

 

“Guess I'll just keep dropping these off at the crack of dawn.” You replied, going to take the container back before he held it out of your reach. “Or not.”

His eyes glossed over your body as you retreated back to your original position. You were attractive. You were also just the right height for him. 

“I didn't say I didn't want them.”

“You know, for a guy that is pretty much a hermit – a hot one, too – you're sending some mixed signals here, dude.”

“Jerry.” He corrected. “And I'm not a hermit.”

“Fine, Jerry,” You said. He relished how his name sounded coming from you. He stood there, his mind wandering as he half wondered what it would sound like with you in his bed as he fucked you into his mattress, his large hands gripping your hips – “Anyway, keep the cookies.”

“I will, thanks.”

“Good luck dieting.” You said, walking backwards before turning around and going back to your home. He watched you nearly trip over the rock you had so expertly missed previously. Jerry would be lying if he said he didn't watch you leave or, more so, the way your ass moved as you swung your hips only in the slightest as you walked quickly back to your front steps. You paused at your door, turning your head to shout at him as he watched you. “Oh, and Jerry?”

“What?” He asked, waiting for a reply.

“Maybe one day you'll give me a thorough house tour, huh? Sorta like all those other people you've already shown your place.”

He watched you go inside, genuinely a little flabbergasted at what you had said. 

Not only had you noticed the people he'd already brought in to either bone or drink from, or both, really. But, you were openly saying, “Hey, if you want to fuck sometime, give me a shout.”

The _nerve_ of some neighbors... 

Regardless, he smiled to himself and chuckled, glancing down at the cookies in his hands before deciding he'd go inside and eat a couple while watching some reality shows. 

Yeah, he had a feeling he'd be a resident of this little neighborhood for a while.


	2. nervous.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dropping off baked goods is hard.

Jerry stood and left his bed. His latest feast had filled him but he was still feeling a bit lethargic. He walked through his house, going to the kitchen to grab an apple. His hand landed on the green skin and he plucked it from the bowl he had, shining it a little on the top of his sweatpants as he went to his kitchen window.

He parted the curtains with his free hand, seeing someone making their way across his driveway. 

Jerry chuckled to himself, watching your sleepy form shuffle to his door. You looked almost like a zombie, your hair a mess and your eyes distinctly droopy, your blood even smelled tired. He watched and then, before you could ring the bell, he ran from his kitchen to his front door and unlocked it, yanking it open quickly. 

You looked at him, your eyes a little wider as you pressed a hand to your chest and let out a yelp, startled by the door opening and his presence.

“A little slow this morning, hm?” Jerry asked as he caught the container with his free hand, the container you had thrown into the air upon being scared.

“Late night.” You mumbled, going to turn around before stopping as you let your eyes wander over his shirtless torso. “My dog kept me up.”

“Mm.” Jerry mumbled, biting into his apple with a loud crunch. “Your dog sounds like a problem.”

“Don't make it sound like you're gonna kill her.” You replied with a sigh, looking into his eyes. The air smelled crisp and felt cold, a slight breeze blowing small strands of your hair and his as it nipped at your skin. “I quite like my dog.”

“What's her name?” 

“Chauncey.” You told him, glancing over your shoulder momentarily to look back at your house. “It's French for --”

“Fortune... to gamble.” Jerry cut in, smiling a little at you. You frowned and raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms over your chest to try and gain back some warmth in the cold morning air. “I know. I went to France for a while.”

“Is it nice there?”

“Uh, yeah. It changes, though.” _Considering the last time he was there was a few decades ago._ “Haven't been in a while.”

“Oh, well, that's too bad, then.” You mumbled awkwardly. His tone made it seem like he missed it. 

He chuckled softly, shaking his head only in the slightest. “You ever been?”

“No, actually. I studied French in high school, though.” You shrugged, watching Jerry look down at the container in his hands. “You might want to eat those warm.” 

“Mm.” Jerry nodded slowly, giving you an easy smile. He was handsome, to say the least. His attractiveness soared above words to describe him, but he was attractive in a rough sort of way. “Thanks.”

“No problem.”

“Do you own a shop or something?”

“Like a bakery? No, I just like baking.” You said. “Anyway, I'm gonna go.”

Jerry watched you step back and turn around before he spoke. “Alright.” 

You glanced over your shoulder and watched him retreat back into his house, like a wolf into a cave. It was a little intoxicating to watch him, with a almost predatory look as you sent him an uneasy smile. He didn't make you nervous, per se.

That was a lie.

Yes, he did.


	3. dark shadows.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chauncey isn't having Jerry's shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is weird lmao excuse it pls idk why im writing chauncey as being red when i also hc her as gray ?? like ?? eh i'll change it later !! enjoy

You heard screams from his home late at night. Past midnight, the clock in your hallway telling you so. The bright screen of your phone saying the same. 

3 AM, that's when you often heard them. Ever since he moved in. People stopped calling the police after knocking on his door, and he told them exactly what (or who) he'd been doing. 

You had yet to storm over there and quiet him down, even as you lay awake in your slightly uncomfortable bed. Even as you stared up at the ceiling, the paint peeling in that one corner of your room that was littered with cobwebs. Even as your dog barked and growled at the window facing his home.

You'd sigh, pet Chauncey and pull her up to your chest, curling her gray tail around her body as she willingly balled up and rested against you.

She still snorted at the window, though. 

Speaking of which, it was much later in the week – in fact, about three days after dropping off more baked goods in the morning and _way_ past dusk and a few hours before dawn. 

“He just has a guest over.” You muttered, petting Chauncey. She was curled up at the foot of your bed as you sat up to pet her, smoothing your fingers over her fur. She darted off your bed at a sudden cut off of the scream, scuttling downstairs and sliding as she reached the kitchen.

You groaned and threw your blankets off, going after your beloved pet about as quick as she raced downstairs. You grabbed her collar as you reached her, gently tugging her away from the backdoor of your house. You pulled her leash off the hook near it and attached it to her collar, leading her to the front door. 

You pulled your keys from the bowl near you and unlocked your door, opening it quickly. Chauncey ran through, barely giving you time to yank your door shut. You followed her as she ran across your driveway and then to Jerry's, going through a lone dirt pile to get to his front steps. 

You cried out as she tugged her black leash free of your grip, nearly smacking against Jerry's door as she barked and growled and scratched. You caught up to her and picked her leash back up, twisting it around your wrist and hand so you wouldn't lose it if she tried it again... or, at least, she'd drag you with her. 

You were about to knock when the door swung open, Jerry standing there. He looked a bit annoyed. 

“Oh, so it _is_ your dog causing the racket.”

“Listen,” You started, ready to serve him like a volleyball over its net. “You're the one who started it, what with the screaming and shit. She got startled when it stopped-”

Jerry laughed, leaning against his doorway in jeans and a t-shirt... which was a little odd for 3 AM, especially considering the screaming, cause shouldn't he be, like, naked? Not that he needed to answer the door like that but– “Is she used to it?”

“A little.” You frowned before continuing. “Now, whoever you've got in there better _shut up_ or I'm going to send Chauncey in there and have her tear their throat out.”

He raised an eyebrow at your violent threat and looked at the redish dog with smoke-like spots around her legs, sitting at your feet, staring up at Jerry.

“Or something like that.” You added, glancing down at her. 

“I've heard pitbulls are actually really nice.” He bent down to pet her, the dog taking it kindly before sniffing him and reeling back. Jerry set your dog a look and she began barking at him, attempting to lunge before you grabbed her collar as she growled. 

Jerry tilted his head and you looked down at her and when you looked back you swear something was up with his teeth for a second there but it was late and you just... you were tired. 

Chauncey whined, looking up at you. She walked behind your leg, trying to get you to go back home.

You sighed, shaking your head. You talked quietly as you corrected yourself, your attempt at threatening your neighbor dying out. “They are, she wouldn't hurt a soul – you're safe.” 

“Doesn't seem to like me.”

“She likes everyone.” You glanced down at her, seeing her casually winding her leash around your legs. “Chauncey-”

She barked in response as she watched you move your legs to untangle her. She must've taken it as “go” because she took off, nearly dragging you with her. Jerry grabbed you and the little length of the leash left, pulling Chauncey back and holding you up. You frowned as he untangled you and glanced at the leash still in your hand.

“You should probably go back home.” 

“Uh, yeah...” You muttered. Chauncey was nervous, to say the least. She kept bumping your legs and whining at the black shadows creeping out from Jerry's doorway. Your heart was racing from your spike in nervousness. “I think we should.”

“Mhm.” Jerry nodded slowly, taking up his entire doorway now. He wasn't sexily leaning against the frame, oh – no. He was telling you in the simplest, most undeniably human way to “back. off.”

And you did. You smiled and walked away from him but when you got to the edge of his driveway you practically flew to your door. You pushed open your door and walked through, Chauncey already through before you as you shoved it shut, locking it and pressing your back to it. 

Your removed her leash and set your keys in the bowl once more, tossing Chauncey's leash onto the couch.

“He's hot, but he's really good at making me uncomfortable.” You told your dog, darting up the stairs with her in tow. “You know?”

She barked once and did nothing more.


	4. sweet / tart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A short trip into Jerry's life and his thoughts towards you, or at least, y'know, your blood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahhhhhh i love updating this it's vvv relaxing

We've been over this... but to stress this, when Jerry first saw you, or smelled you, he thought of you as nothing more than a body to dine on. He wanted to feed, and then he _met_ you. You were sweet, just how your blood smelled, which is what had him sitting on his couch right now. He was covered in the blood of a woman he didn't know, a woman he didn't care about. Her blood wasn't sweet, it wasn't tart... it was bland.

He didn't like it.

He didn't _want_ it. It didn't taste right to him. All he could think of, all he could smell, was the nervousness in your blood earlier. 

He glanced at the clock on his wall. It was just breaking 6 AM. Jerry sighed heavily, he knew you knew something was up.

He was wearing jeans at 3 AM for fuck's sake! Sure, he worked nights, but... still.

Jerry's tongue slid over his teeth, cleaning any remaining blood from the now off-white surfaces. He thought about it. He liked making people nervous, he liked how he could smell their fear, smell their blood turning and their body's beginning the shut-down process.

The guy _relished_ that shit. He loved every second of it. Just – _this was stupid_ – he didn't like it coming from you. He didn't like the way your eyes went big and he didn't like the way your palms began to sweat. He didn't like the fact that your damn dog got scared of him and he didn't like that he could smell the nervousness from within his house at the furthest part from yours.

He didn't enjoy it, not like he usually did. He didn't like the sudden fear rolling off you in waves that he was smelling right now. You were right outside his door, he could tell. He shrunk down on the couch and waited for you to go.

He smelled the cinnamon apple tarts. 

They made his mouth water.

He would've gone out and gotten them had you not changed your mind and ran back to your house. He grumbled and stood, going to peek out of his curtains to see your retreating form. 

Jerry decided he'd talk to you later.


	5. prick.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jerry intended to, really, he did -- but he couldn't.

You were sitting on your kitchen on the floor, petting Chauncey as she whined softly. 

It'd be a while since you decided not to give Jerry the apple tarts. They were sitting in your fridge. They were an old batch, something that needed to be downed or thrown out; one of the two. 

It was sometime in the evening when you sighed softly and where about to stand, a sudden knock coming from your back door. You dropped down a little more, your back pressed firmly to the cabinets. You were wondering who the hell it was when you heard their voice.

“You home?”

Chauncey barked and began growling at the door, standing up and going over to it. She hunkered down in front, standing guard as she continued to grow.

“Shh, baby.” You whispered soothingly, smoothing your hand over her head as you stood. You unlocked the two bolts on the door, twisting the handle while getting Chauncey to move as you yanked it open. “Yes?”

“You didn't drop off any baked things.” Jerry said, standing on the back steps as he watched you. “Why?”

“Uh,” You began, trying to find a plausible reason as you stared at him and he stared right back at you. “Forgot to put something in them.”

He didn't seem convinced as he stepped closer and you stepped back, hoping he wouldn't come into your home. He seemed to stop at the highest step, the toes of his boots barely toeing the threshold of your back door. You glanced down as he did, looking at the strip of metal lining the area.

“I just wanted to apologize for earlier, I'll try to be quiet. I didn't mean to keep you up, or, y'know, anyone for that matter.” Jerry said easily, bringing his right hand up to gently scratch then rub the back of his neck. The smile he was showing was awkward but attractive, everything the guy did was attractive, honestly. He closed with a breath of the same apology, shrugging slightly. “Sorry.”

You watched him, Chauncey sitting beside you and growling softly still. You smiled a little, satisfied with it as you went to your fridge and pulled the tarts out. You crossed the room back to Jerry, going to give him the clear and blue container as he reached for it.

You stopped short and he yanked his hand back. You furrowed your eyebrows.

“Sorry, I uh... these taste good with milk. You have milk or no?” You questioned, watching him as he nodded. “Alright, good, just checking.”

You handed him the container and felt something odd as he fingers gently brushed yours as he took the container, like a force compelling you to pull away. Before you could, however, something pricked your finger and you winced then quickly yanked your hands back, nearly dropping the container. 

You would've, too, if he hadn't had a hand on it. 

“Whoops.” You muttered, looking down at Chauncey again. She was growling, the edge of her nose wrinkling ever so slightly. 

Jerry watched you with slightly narrowed eyes as he had a smirk on his face, his hands holding the container tightly. “Thanks, and I'll be sure to drink some milk with these.”

You giggled softly, nodding and waving goodbye as he slowly retreated back to his house. You closed the door, locked it and patted Chauncey on the head.

You glanced at your finger, the one currently stinging, and noticed the small dot of red surfacing onto your skin. You, without taking a second glance or thinking a second thought, pushed the finger into your mouthed and gently sucked on it til it stopped bleeding.

Outside, however, as Jerry made his way back to his house, he lifted his finger to where he had pricked you with one of his nails, staring at your blood on the end. He smelled the intensity of it and he almost brought the finger to his lips... but he couldn't do it.

He growled angrily and wiped the blood on his jeans.

“Hate this shit.”


	6. free day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> why do i have to write about vampires getting hard while drinking blood why am i LIKE THIS 
> 
> (also why is the dialogue in this always so fucking rocky jfc anyway i hope the next chapter will be smutty idk what my brain wants at this point ??????)

There was something undeniably sexual about Jerry. Something... very raw about him, about the way he was. 

There always had been.

There was something you'd learn, when the time came, that Jerry enjoyed drinking the blood of a human in a very different way. Besides, of course, stoking the flames of his undead hunger.

To put it blatantly, his dick got rock-hard whenever he did it. 

It put him in a state of euphoria, an almost blood-ecstasy pumping through his veins.

"Y'know," He started, standing over some woman who was in her early twenties. He'd gotten her a nice meal after leaving the seedy bar, gave her some of your brownies as dessert and a nice glass of ice-cold water. "You really need to listen to your friends when they tell you not to go off with strangers." 

She watched him, her blood dripping from her neck in a white room. She was out of it, to say the least.

"Not that it's your fault, really. You're a young, pretty girl." Some twisted emotion in her caused a smile to turn up on her lips. "Probably just turned twenty-one, right? Gotta go drink legally now, get absolutely shit-faced and take some random guy or girl, for that matter, back home."

She still watched him, blood trickling from her neck as he grabbed a rag from a bucket and pressed it to her neck. He took another piece and wrapped it all the way around, tying a soft knot at the opposite side of her neck, making it comfortable. Her fingers flinched and her skin crawled as he did this. 

“It’s fine, really. It would’ve been safer had you not, though.”

He heard loud barking approaching as he left the room, shutting the door cautiously behind him. He went downstairs, grabbing an apple off the counter and going to his door as he shined the green fruit off on his sweatpants. He unlocked and swung open the front door, pushing it back as he looked at the overcast sky. You were coming across his driveway, Chauncey leading the charge as you held a container and were careful not to drop its contents.

“Chauncey, wait!” You hissed, trying to manage the large dog as she scrambled for Jerry’s steps, stopping short of the top one as he watched you take a moment to catch your breath. Your eyes stared at his bare chest, lingering a tad too long – _give 'em something to look at_ – “These are for you.”

He took a bite of his apple as you extended the – _what the hell are these?_ – out to him. You smiled weakly as Chauncey whined, watching you shake the box gently at Jerry.

“What are they?” He questioned, still not taking the box. He discreetly sniffed the air, taking a sharp inhale as his nose graciously breathed in the scent of the heat pooling in your stomach, gathering between your legs and – “Brownies, bars…?”

“New recipe. Some homemade eclairs.” You smiled a bit wider now, watching his reaction. You watched the hesitant smile tug at his lips, memories of the forgotten times there flooding into his mind of decades past. “Took me a little while to get right but, y’know.”

He hummed appreciatively as he took the clear container, taking a moment to glance at his torso to check for blood (a tad late, but better late than never) as Chauncey continued to whine. He took another bite out of his apple, retreating indoors and taking the eclairs to the fridge before placing them inside. The front door was still open, and you found yourself peeking in as Chauncey yipped softly. 

“Coming in?” Jerry questioned, watching (and smelling) your hesitance grow as much as your arousal did. You were an easy one to get riled, he assumed. “(Y/N)?”

“Maybe some other time, Jer.” You frowned slightly at the mention of your name, unused to hearing him say it. “I did have a question, though.”

“Go ahead.” He replied, taking another chunk from his apple as he drew close to the door again, watching you shift as Chauncey narrowed her eyes at him.

You sighed softly, glancing down at your beloved dog before speaking. You squeezed your eyes shut, like you were hoping he’d go away before he heard you. “Would you like to go get coffee sometime?”

“No.” Jerry rejected the idea immediately, watching your eyes fly open as you opened your mouth as well, ready to question him on that, as well before he stuck his free hand up. He chewed for a moment as he took yet _another_ bite, nearly already finishing the damned apple. “I’m not a morning person, really, so coffee would have to be at night.”

“Oh.” You muttered, furrowing your eyebrows.

“But I can do dinner sometime, maybe when I have a day off so that way I’m not tired and can give you my _full_ attention.” He offered, watching your eyes light up at the mischievous idea behind his words. “Either here, or your place – perhaps a nice little sit down restaurant?”

“Play it by ear, how about that?” You shot back, watching him nod with a slight smirk.

“You got it.” He paused, tilting his head slightly. “One more thing, by the way.”

“What’s that?”

Jerry glanced down at Chauncey once more, giving her a look of – _haha!_ – as she uncomfortably stared at him. “I’ve got a free day comin’ up on Friday night.”

He shut the door so you had no time to reply.

 _Alright,_ you told yourself as you walked back home with Chauncey barking madly at Jerry’s house, trying to tug you back over there as if to ask for an invitation to fight him. _Date with my hot neighbor on Friday... let’s do this._


	7. deep red.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dates are going better these days.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ah fuck i know it took me forever but hey! im back and this chapter involves some good ol' fingering!!
> 
> reminder: im changing my username to get_glitch3d. right now, that name is just a placeholder.

"Fuck!" You swore, staring at yourself in the mirror. "Lookin' like a damn disgrace, what am I _wearing!?"_

You and Jerry had agreed on a nice little sit down place. Candlelit, you assumed, after looking at the website for two hours. You were nervous, you didn't know if you were over dressed or under dressed. You smoothed down the edge of your sweater, the soft white color looked absolutely gorgeous against your skin tone, paired with your eye color and those nice, dark wash, high waisted jeans you decided to wear.

Your shoes were simple, a pair of your favorite boots and a necklace adorning your neck. 

Suddenly, there was a knock downstairs and your heart lept as you heard it, Chauncey whining from her place on the bed. Her head was resting on her arms in front of her, and you saw her right ear perk up.

"Alright, sweetie, I'll be gone for a few hours." You told her, walking over and gently rubbing her heavy head with your fingers. "Don't tear up my shit, Chauncey."

You got downstairs after making sure you had everything and, slowly, opened your front door. 

"Hey," you smiled. As shy as your smile happened to be, Jerry greeted you with a, somehow, equally sinful one. "Ready?"

"Thought I'd ask you the same." He replied, eyeing the threshold as he heard the steps of Chauncey coming down the stairs. You were about to step out and close the door but it was forced open and you were pushed to the side as Chauncey hunkered down on the threshold. "Well, someone's got separation anxiety."

Chauncey furrowed her brows and barked, the sound cutting through the neighborhood and echoing. You stepped past her and Jerry crouched down, putting a hand out to gently scratched the part of her ear that met her head.

You wondered if he'd seen you do that while you were walking her, how else would he have known that was her special spot?

Despite her efforts, her tongue slipped out of her mouth as she panted, enjoying the gentle scratch from her enemy. Jerry grinned, his incisors pointier than you first noticed. You noticed his hand never passed the threshold, perhaps he was just guessing about the ear thing?

He glanced up at you before standing.

"My truck okay?"

"Yeah, great." You replied, shooing Chauncey back as she looked nervously between the two of you despite her previous enjoyment. You locked the door after she was clear, tucking your keys into your back. "More room, anyway."

You don't know why you said that, but Jerry smiled wolfish nonetheless.

>>> | <<<

"Steaks are always good here," Jerry suggested honestly, not even looking at the menu. He'd ordered red wine for the both of you, one glass in front of him and another in front of you, both accompanied by an equal sized glass of water. "The spaghetti and meatball dish isn't half bad, same with the lobster."

"But the steaks in particular?" You repeated, watching him shrug his shoulders with a grin. "Creature of habit, I assume?"

"Medium rare, closer to rare, and yes, I get them most of the time." Jerry replied easily, gaze shifting from you to the two small candles in the center of the table. You read the menu still, despite his suggestions, and would occasionally steal glanced at him to find him watching you. "See anything you'd like?"

"Couple things." You told him, nervously rolling your bottom lip between your teeth as you attempted to hide the warmth rising in your cheeks with your menu. You felt like a child, blushing under his gaze, giddy feeling rising in your chest. "All expensive, however."

"Finer things are worth it," He said lowly, your eyes meeting his over the edge of the menu, the candlelight reflected in the dark brown of his eyes. "Believe me."

A waiter suddenly appeared, notepad ready as he watched you, black pants and a shirt with a bright red bowtie was all you saw before you cleared your throat, your mouth dry.

"Ready to order?" The waiter asked. You glanced at _Tom_ and his silver name tag. "Or do you need a bit more time."

"Ready." You told him, eyes focusing on the menu. Jerry kept quiet, politely giving you the time to talk. "I'd like the sirloin steak with a side of potatoes and green beans."

"How would you like the steak cooked?"

"Medium-well." You replied, looking up at Tom who seemed to lurch over the table. He nodded curtly, writing that down as he took your menu and, upon seeing Jerry not using his, took that as well. "Thank you."

"And you, sir?" Tom questioned, his foot shifting as he waited. He seemed to smile more towards Jerry, his voice a bit softer and sweeter and you raised an eyebrow at the comforting tone. "The usual or something other?"

"Usual." Jerry confirmed with a nod, smile playing at the edge of his lips as Tom nodded a bit more than he had with you. "Medium-rare, in case you've forgotten."

"I could never." Tom bubbled, eyes childlike and lashes fluttering. "I'll get that right in for you."

He left and you shook your head, looking down at your fingers. 

"Tom's got it bad, Jerry."

"I know," Jerry shrugged, looking around the fine establishment you were dining at. "He's a good kid, wouldn't wanna get tangled up with the likes of me."

"Alright, cowboy," You chuckled, smiling toothily at him as he turned his head to face you, mimicking your smile. "Easy there."

By the time you'd gotten your dinner, Tom had checked in on you, or Jerry, as it seemed, around four times. 

You were happily dining, however, trying not to moan at the taste of the steak you were eating.

Dinner was a breeze. Conversation was swapped as were interests, you seemed to talk more about you than Jerry and he seemed alright with that. You both eventually ordered dessert and Jerry commented that it wasn't as good as what you made, nothing could top that. You felt your cheeks heat up again at the compliment, your eyes looking down at the remains of the chocolate cake you had both demolished. 

By the time the bill came, you were standing up and, strictly by accident, Tom knocked over your glass of wine and nearly shrieked as you did, his hands clumsily attempting to catch it. He only moved it further over, small droplets of deep red spilling across the white tablecloth – but not a drop on you.

He apologized profusely, gesturing to a busboy for backup as Jerry went and paid. You breathed a sigh of relief at the avoidance of the casualty, but as you turned around, a server was walking quickly and you two bumped, the deep red from before now spilling over and onto your beautiful white sweater. You calmly looked at the server who looked like a deer in headlights and, with as much composure as possible, told them you owned bleach and went to the washroom to clean anything off your skin.

You'd pulled your sweater off in the washroom, hoping to rinse some of the wine out without someone walking in and seeing you in your bra. 

Much to your dismay, however, someone did walk into the ladies' room.

Jerry.

He let the door swing close behind him, watching you as he stepped closer. "That's a good look on you."

Had you known he was speaking of the red dripping down your neck and absorbing into your soft pink bra, you might've not froze up as much. You rung the sweater out, putting it beneath the hand dryer as you stretched the fabric, hoping to dry it faster. Your back was turned to Jerry and, you realized this too late, that he had come close. When you went to turn around, you were practically boxed and nearly tripped, Jerry's large hands steadying you as they gripped your arms. The heat of the hand dryer was almost too much against your skin as you were nearly pressed up to the metal.

"What?" You asked softly, eyes focusing on his. He leaned down and, _fuck it made your thighs clench,_ licked up all the wine that he could, tongue moving expertly across your flushed skin as you waited for him to be done, your mind swirling at the welcomed feeling of pleasure. You wondered how else he could use it, his hands still holding you as you nearly melted. "Oh."

"Let's go back to the truck, huh?" Jerry asked, and you nodded going to tug on your damp sweater before Jerry shrugged off his leather jacket, handing you the heavy item with a lustful look in his eyes. "Don't want you chilly, now do we?"

Your doe eyed look and the jittery shake of your head went straight to his cock, that nervous look you held fueled his fire.

>>> | <<<   
He'd driven somewhere, hand on your leg the entire time. You were anxiously nibbling on your thumb nail, glancing at the growing bulge in his jeans as his large hand stroked your inner thigh. _God,_ you wanted this. Your own growing arousal was causing you to shift everytime his fingers smoothed over the inseam of your nice jeans. 

Jerry had stopped in a deserted parking lot somewhere, immediately getting impatient as he ordered you to the back of his truck, the two of you cramming yourselves on the backseat. It was no easy task, but surely, you managed. He was on you in seconds, hands roaming everywhere as he pulled his jacket off of your body. His eyes were wild – _feral,_ even – and it was _killing_ you the way he looked above you, kissing and nipping every inch of skin as he tasted the sweat accumulating on your skin. If you knew exactly what you were doing to him, the moonlight coming through the truck's window washing over you in a gentle way, adding to some innocent vibe you happened to be giving off as he felt like a wolf preying on a door.

It drove him wild.

Your jeans were unbuttoned and around your ankles in a quick tug, his strong arms forcing them down to your boots. Your panties, as it would happened, managed to stay on despite your jeans.

"Done this before?" You asked, your voice sounding breathless as he pushed your legs up, kissing the backs of your thighs as he grinned against your skin. "I'll take that as a yes."

"You talk too much," he told you, and you were about to retort when he mouthed over your clothed clit, your pelvis rising up at the contact and your reply shriveled in your throat and left as a groan. "I like those sounds, though."

He pulled back, smoothing some of his hair back before he flattened his tongue and practically dove down, licking your clothed slit to your clit. You cried out, getting pleasure but not _enough_ from his actions.

"Jerry," you sighed, already on the brink of begging as he looked up at you, repeating the action before mouthing over your clit again. " _Shit, –_ please!"

Jerry hummed against you, causing your hips to buck and attempt to gain friction against his mouth before he hooked his finger into your panties and pulled them to the side, his knuckle grazing your sensitive nub with little care as his left arm came up to push your hips down, your legs still raised before he put them over him. It reminded you of the safety precautions on a roller coaster, you would've laughed had his tongue not slid into your aching pussy to taste you then drag your slick up to your clit and swirl it, sucking the nub between his lips as you reached down and grabbed his hair, thighs threatening to squeeze shut as he wedged the right arm belonging to the hand pushing your panties to the side to keep them open.

You gasped, only swears coming to your swimming mind as he continued to suck before your realized you were clenching.

"So soon?" He asked, pulling away with a tilt of his head as you yanked at his hair, pushing his mouth back to your drenched core with that dumb grin on his face as you blissfully waited to come, your orgasm building faster than it usually did, your body warmly welcoming the feeling as his left arm moved and his hand slid two deft fingers inside of you, curling them as he fucked you with them, eyes watching you as he licked and sucked at your clit, switching to nibble the skin of your thigh as you moaned, gripping his hair with your hand and his fingers with your slick walls, eyes shutting as you threw your head back, feeling him insert a third, spreading you open as you orgasm was climbing, that pulsing and _throbbing_ sensation hitting you as your thighs shook in the slightest, Jerry rising up over you, pressing his face into your neck as his mouth moved to kiss and lick the area. Then you heard a breathy pause as he moved and made his fingers go _deep_ by rocking his hips against his own hand, causing you to let out a strangle scream as you came. 

You clenched your walls tight, hand still gripping his hair as your opposite grab his left bicep, hanging onto the strong muscle for dear life as your pressed up against him, bra grazing his t-shirt as you moaned and shook and finally felt his teeth gently bite you and he dragged them across, a strange sound coming from him, almost a groan as your heartbeat attempted to regulate itself.

Then your phone rang and, as much as you wanted to leave it, Jerry asked you to answer it as he pulled his fingers from you, something about needing a moment himself.

"I'm sorry," You muttered into the speaker, your eyebrows furrowing as your body came down from its high. Your eyes met Jerry's dark ones, his expression turning worried as he attempted to overhear the conversation. "Is she okay, though?"

_"She's a little cut up, maybe something broke. We have to do an x-ray, though. Any idea how she got out?"_

"No, I don't." You replied honestly, watching Jerry move your legs back and tug your jeans back up, more or less making it certain that was the end of the fun. "I'll be there soon, alright? Please take care of her."

_"We've got it covered. Your dog is in good hands."_

"Thank you." You looked at Jerry as you hung up, expression worried as your heartbeat picked up pace now for a different reason. You almost croaked as you spoke. "Can you drive me over to the vet's clinic?"

"I'll stay with you." He agreed assuredly. "Chauncey'll be alright."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! (ps, just in time for halloween.) and yeah, chauncey will be alright but yanno shit gets ruined


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